


Look So Good (and we never even try)

by dls



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls
Summary: A collection of Harringrove AU ficlets, accompanied by moodboards.Ch. 1: Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 1)Ch. 2: Pretty Woman AUCh. 3: Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 2)Ch. 4: Queer As Folk (US) AUCh. 3: Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 3)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> References/Quotes:   
>  Title from "Do It All The Time" by IDKHow.   
> 

"Hey there, pretty boy."

Steve turns slowly, blinking against the morning sun framing Hargrove's broad shoulders and catching in the wild halo of his hair. "Me?" He points at himself and immediately feels like an idiot. 

Hargrove winks. "Don't see anyone else around. Thought the models aren't getting in till the afternoon."

"Oh, um, I'm not a model." Steve shuffles his feet. "I'm here for you, actually-"

"Gotta say, that's the first time a fan's gotten past security but I bet you get everywhere..." Hargrove trails off and licks his lips, tongue curling around a predatory smile that makes Steve's pulse jump.

Clearing his throat a little too loud and a bit too purposeful, Steve pushes down the sudden swell of heat in his belly. He has a job to do. "I'm your new assistant."


	2. Pretty Woman AU

The Lotus Esprit screeches to a stop by the curb.

Billy trades eye rolls with Heather as he pushes himself off of the wall.

The rich jackass driving it clearly has no idea how to handle a fine piece of machinery, what a fucking waste. He decides he's definitely going to overcharge the douchebag as he approaches the car, schooling his features into something less contemptuous. After all, he's got to hook the asshole to overcharge him.

Behind the steering wheel is the prettiest boy Billy's ever seen. A mess of brown hair curling over the pale curve of the back of his neck, delicate features furrowed in concentration.

Billy feels like he's been sucker-punched, dazed and kind of pissed off.

"First is here somewhere..." Pretty Boy mutters, chewing on his bottom lip as he twists his grip around the gear shift in a move that both demonstrates he clearly has no idea how to drive a stick and sends a spike of arousal down Billy's spine.

Oh hell, Billy wants to suck on those fingers. "Hey, sugar, you looking for a date?"

"Huh?" Pretty Boy's head snaps up, brown eyes wide and pink lips falling open like an invitation. "Um, direction, actually. Do you know how to get to Beverly Hills?"

"Sure." Billy grins. "For five bucks."

Pretty Boy frowns. "You can't charge me for directions."

There's a whine in his voice that says spoiled but instead of warning Billy away, all he can think about is it'd be a blast to spoil this Pretty Boy. "I can do anything I want to, baby. I ain't lost and I know how to drive a stick."

For a second Billy wonders if he's pushed too far but then Pretty Boy blows out a breath. "All right. You win, I lose." He chews on the inside of his cheek. "How much if you drive me there?"

"Depends on what you want me to do on the way." Billy waggles his tongue.

Pretty Boy flushes but doesn't look away. "Follow the traffic laws."

The unexpected snark shocks a laugh out of Billy. "Fifty bucks." 

"Done."

Then Pretty Boy is climbing out of the car, strolling to the passenger's side, and getting into Billy's personal space. "Move." He orders, pressing two fingers against Billy's chest, and pushes like a brat.

Billy swoons a little on the inside as he hurries to the driver's seat.

"Fasten your seat belts, sweetheart. I'm taking you on the ride of your life."


	3. Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 2)

Billy snags the iced coffee, light ice and half pump classic syrup, with a tilt of his chin as thanks. He doesn't actually say it, Steve has learned after a week on the job.

"Where do these go?" Steve looks down at the remaining six drinks and tries to match them to the other people on set. The tea seems like something the photographer likes, the latte is probably for-

"They're for you." Billy mumbles, teeth white and lips red against the green straw. "Take one."

Steve's head snaps up. "What? What do you mean they're for me?"

"Didn't know what you like so, you know..." Billy shrugs at the trays in Steve's hands, like it's no big deal that Steve had to endure all the glares at Starbucks.

Even though Steve ordered ahead on his phone, making seven drinks still takes a damn long time. As soon as he walked in, he could tell everyone there was waiting to see who the asshole holding up the line was. He frowns, annoyed with Billy's antics but not as much as he should be.

Because there's something almost sweet about it.

Like the drink Billy is sipping absently while watching Steve with his blue, blue eyes.

Steve sighs. "Next time, just ask."

Billy flutters his lashes. "Where's the fun in that?"

"I'm not laughing." Steve flattens his lips, both to make a point and to stop them from curving into a smile that'd undermine said point. 

Something softens in Billy's expression but his tone remains flippant. "Fine, fine." Stepping into Steve's personal space, he grabs the frappuccino - which Steve was eyeing his entire drive back - and lifts it up to Steve's mouth. "C'mon, pretty boy, let's turn that frown upside down."


	4. Queer As Folk (US) AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Billy 18 and halved the age gap between them because as much as I tried, I couldn’t write a scene between a 29 year-old and a 17 year-old as it was in the TV series (though I enjoyed watching it).

“I can’t go home now. My dad’ll kill me.” Billy can’t quite hide the panic in his voice. Neil, as expected, didn’t take Billy’s defiant confirmation of his sexual orientation well, to say the least. As in, he pulled a gun and Billy scrambled out of the house that never felt like a home and headed for Babylon - it seemed like the perfect solution, find a guy to fuck to spite Neil and get a place to spend the night till he can go back when Neil’s at work for his stuff. 

Except now Steve’s kicking him out. For some chick named Nancy. Who’s having a baby. What the fuck?

“You don’t have your own place?” Steve glances over his shoulder, tucking his phone into his back pocket. 

Billy wishes they could go back to a moment ago, when Steve’s teeth were grazing his neck and the only sounds between them were moans. “Well, I’m still in school. I mean, um, college.” He fidgets with the belt loops on his jeans, the zipper still open.

Steve hums skeptically as he pulls his sweater over his head. “How old are you?” 

“Twenty-two.” Billy clears his throat and sits up a bit taller, hoping that he looks convincing because he certainly doesn’t sound it.

“What year were you born?”

The answer, the real one, is at the tip of his tongue but Billy has to bite it back. That pause gives him away. 

“You shouldn’t have to think about it, man.” Steve’s brows and mouth quirk with what Billy hopes is amusement. “How old are you really?” 

“Twenty.” 

Impossibly, Steve lifts his brows higher. 

“Nineteen.” 

Amusement fades from Steve’ eyes. “What is this, a missile launch?”

Billy exhales sharply, hissing out his real age with a mix of frustration and shame and resignation. “Eighteen. The legal age of consent.” He adds hastily, but he knows it won’t change anything with the way Steve’s already shaking his head. All sanctimonious and shit, like he’s forty instead of twenty four. Though if Steve were forty…Billy wouldn’t have gone home with him. 

“What is it with kids today?” Steve steps into his shoes, like he’s done with both the conversation and Billy when a minute ago, they were just getting started. 

“We just wanna get laid like everybody else.” Billy grumbles. “Fuck it, just take me back to the club.” He stands, tugs his jeans up and looks around for his shirt. 

Steve watches him for a beat, quiet and assessing, then he sighs. “No, you’re not. You can tag along to the hospital with me then we’ll figure something out if you really can’t go home. Dads-” His shoulders shift back, like he’s gearing up for a fight before he visibly relaxes them. “Dads suck." 

"Don’t need you to save me, pretty boy.” Billy sneers because he’s never known what to do with kindness and always confuses it with pity. 

“Never said a word about saving.” Pacing across his expansive loft, Steve picks up Billy’s shirt by the front door and throws it to him with surprisingly accuracy. “You coming?" 

Billy wants to bite back with something snarky like ‘thought we weren’t going to fuck’ but there’s something in Steve’s stupidly pretty brown eyes that silences the retorts Billy wants to throw like punches. "Sure, whatever.” He says instead, shrugging into his shirt and leaving it unbuttoned. Gotta remind King Steve what he’s missing out on, after all. 


	5. Celebrity & Personal Assistant AU (Part 3)

“Which one?” Billy asks, holding up two of the many, too many, pairs of sunglasses various designers have sent over for his upcoming interview. 

It’s a testament to how far Billy has come, that he’s gifted the accessories instead of merely loaned them. He’s been trying them on for close to an hour, sliding them off, peering at Steve over the top, and pulling them off with a flourish. 

Steve supposes he can’t fault Billy for luxuriating in the accomplishment but the caffeine buzz is wearing off and pressure is building at his temples every time the stylist glares at him from the other side of the room. 

As though Steve’s the one who told him to ‘fuck off’ instead of Billy who actually did, as soon as the stylist told Steve to ‘fetch’ him a coffee. Not as a figure of speech but a command, like Steve’s anyone’s bitch. Which isn’t fine but isn’t anything new either. He’s learned early on that some people want to work with him to corral the clients while others want to boss him around. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping it’ll stave off the oncoming headache, and mumbles about both pairs looking the same to him but bites back the comment about this is why they have stylists. After all, Billy was standing up for him - a kind gesture carried out with rudeness, which is kind of in line with how Billy operates in general - and Steve did appreciate it.

“You okay, pretty boy?" 

"I’m fine." 

Billy fixes him with a look. 

"I mean, I’ll be fine once I eat something.” Steve shrugs. It’s not a lie, not really. He’s not hungry but he could eat. Maybe a doughnut or something from the craft service table when they start shooting.

Billy doesn’t seem to buy it but lets it go after a beat. "Which one?“ He asks again. 

"Why does it matter? You know you look good in anything." 

"But I want to know what you think.” Billy’s gaze is bright and so, so blue. Like the ocean. 

It’s a little hard to breathe under the unblinking attention of a force of nature. So Steve really can’t be held responsible for blurting out the first thing on his mind. “I- I like seeing your eyes." 

"Oh.” Billy smiles, a shy lift of his lips. So different from the earlier grins, intentions spelled out with teeth and tongue. This is softer, almost an invitation. He drops both pairs back into the trays. “Then I’ll skip the shades.”

“Wait, what? You can’t do that, they want-" 

"I’ll pop them on when we leave, let the paps get a few good shots. It’ll be fine." 

"But-” It doesn’t make any sense for Billy to not only ask for Steve’s opinion but also to treat it like it matters. 

The kids, as much as Steve adores them, never listened to his fashion tips. Well, except for Dustin and that’s why Dustin is Steve’s favorite.

“You said you like my eyes, no takebacks.” Billy winks, standing to rummage through his jacket pocket. "Catch!“ 

Something hits Steve in the chest, he barely catches it. A protein bar. 

Billy moves past him. "We’ll get burgers after this.” He calls over his shoulder as he head towards the set. 

The doughnuts are right at the edge of his peripheral vision, dusted with sugar and filled with jelly, but Steve peels back the wrapper instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> [dls-ao3.tumblr.com](https://dls-ao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
